


a desire for intimacy

by northern



Series: where you can always find me [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Manipulative Will, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Uncomfortable Conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 16:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7625542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northern/pseuds/northern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You want me to choose to see you as inherently more superior than myself."</p><p>"In certain situations, yes," Will says and takes another bite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a desire for intimacy

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Elizaria and Damnslippyplanet! Your help and comments really make me feel better about writing.
> 
> Start with the first part of the series to get the most out of it.

It might be that Hannibal has left them idle for too long. Maybe too much time spent gazing out across the lake has made Will think this is a good idea, instead of simply going to some shelter and bringing a dog home, solving the problem. Possibly, Hannibal should have presented him with one of the many injustices invariably going on in any place where more than a few people gather together instead, and encouraged him to express something other than outraged pity.

However, dinner must be made, and no matter how little he wants to speak with Will about what happened earlier, he refuses to let it prevent him from cooking and seeing the pleasure on Will's face as he eats what Hannibal has prepared.

"I'm sure there are plenty of strays and rescues in town if you miss having a dog so badly," he tells Will as they cut into marinated chicken and caramelized vegetables. Better to broach the subject now than allow it to fester.

"Hannibal. I do miss having a dog, but that doesn't mean you're any kind of substitute."

Of course he's not a substitute. There exists nothing or no one Hannibal could ever be a substitute _for_. Still.

"Transferring your desire to own a pet to a human being might have more far reaching consequences for you than you realize. It could create a conflict in your mind." Or going for a walk could create a conflict in Will's mind. Or washing his clothes. It's possible. Hannibal pours himself more wine.

Will's mouth twitches. "You're worried about maintaining mental health? With your history, and mine, you seriously think this is the unhealthy thing in the equation?"

"For the individual," Hannibal says, because he can't really help himself, "there is nothing inherently unhealthy about realizing one's ambitions and discovering one's true self. It is far more damaging to repress a natural progression from thought to plan to action."

Will looks at him. Hannibal looks back.

"You realize that this applies to more things than murder," Will says, his tone dry.

Of course it does. "Self-actualization is universal," Hannibal says.

"So it could apply to growing into enjoying, at times, taking on the role of a dog. My dog."

"But I'm not a dog," Hannibal says.

"Mm. You're not, and you are. It's all in how you choose to see it."

"You want me to choose to see you as inherently more superior than myself."

"In certain situations, yes," Will says and takes another bite.

There is a clear sensation of being pursued to this conversation, even with the enforced casualness that Will is employing. Hannibal likes the focus it implies, and the way Will leaves no room for doubting what it is he wants. Still, this could be a larger undertaking than expected.

Hannibal had assumed debasing himself would be a fairly simple exchange. A time to let Will do what he wanted while Hannibal waited for him to be done, in the interest of making sure the air between them was as clear as possible, with no or few brewing aggressions. Instead it seems that the particular manner in which Will wants Hannibal to debase himself means Hannibal has trouble detaching himself from the situation. The way Will asserts himself over him leaves no room for simply waiting.

When Hannibal had thought of the possibility of sublimated desire for intimacy, he had assumed their desires to be a matched set. He knows the type of intimacy he would welcome — a sexual and physical expression, and as much of an emotional bond as he can wring out of it, furthering what they already have. Will's desires might be different. The tableau with Hannibal on his knees, his head in Will's lap… that had been intimate, but not sexual and with little opportunity for Hannibal to contribute. It could well be that this is the only kind of intimacy Will wants of him. A dog's love and obedience.

"It wasn't what you expected, was it?" Will asks.

Hannibal renews his efforts to finish his plate, since a glance at Will's tells him his ruminations have left him behind, and it would be rude to make his dinner companion wait while he eats. "I expected instruction and you gave it," he says.

"If you're ever uncomfortable, it's fine to tell me," Will says, that look of sincere worry on his face again.

"Isn't the point to make me uncomfortable? Where is the therapeutic value in having me at your mercy and making me comfortable?"

"Or you can just leave, like you did." It's as if Will isn't even listening. "I won't hold anything you say in the heat of the moment against you."

If there is anything worse than unrequited longing, it's the kind of merciful pity Will is heaping upon him. As if Hannibal is so weak that he's incapable of bearing a hand on his head and some demeaning words. In this moment, it doesn't matter that the experience had made Hannibal stand up and leave, because if Will wants to torture him with kind hands and praise for orders obeyed, at least it will be intimate torture. More intimate than knives or beatings, one could argue.

"I will do what you ask of me, to the best of my ability," Hannibal tells Will, and if it sounds more like a threat than a promise, he doesn't especially care.

"I know," Will says, sighing. "I know."


End file.
